


A Thing Of The Past

by Coby_Thinks



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Child Abuse, Human AU, Mentions of past abuse, Past Abuse, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coby_Thinks/pseuds/Coby_Thinks
Summary: Logan was missing - or rather misplaced - for seven years. He knew where he was, as did his father, and they both knew he was supposed to be somewhere else.Now, after Logan was brought home and his father put behind bars, the fifteen-year-old is having trouble separating his own life from the life his father planned for him. Add to the mix childhood friends and an ongoing investigation into what happened those seven years, things aren't going to be easy for him.And oh, how Logan wishes life could just be easy.





	1. Chapter One

Logan remembered he used to have friends. Years ago, before everything. Three of them. He remembered they’d been very close, both because they all lived on the same street and because they were fond of each other. Yes, Logan certainly remembered having friends. But other than a vague memory of the four of them in a treehouse together, he couldn't remember anything about them.

  
It wasn’t surprising, he supposed. That had to have been when he was only five or six, maybe a few years older than that, but not much. Years ago. So much had happened since then… it was probably silly of him to be remembering it. Yet here he was, remembering it.

  
“Logan Barry?” Logan lifted his head a few inches when the door opened and someone stepped inside. A doctor, he presumed. They were wearing a white coat with a nametag clipped on that told him their name was Dr. Woodworth. He didn’t raise his vision higher than that.

  
“That’s me,” Logan said softly. He rubbed his palms on the unfamiliar jeans he was wearing. Dr. Woodworth sat on the chair opposite of him and flipped through a file.

  
“Logan, do you know what year it is?”

  
“2019,” Logan answered immediately, eyebrows furrowing. So this was another test. Made sense. What kind of test would it be, though?

  
“Good. Can you tell me who the current United States president is?” Logan frowned.

  
“Donald Trump.” What kind of test was this?

  
“Very good. What was your father's name?”

  
Logan’s head snapped up in surprise, meeting Dr. Woodworths equally startled gaze.

  
“Logan?”

  
“Why are you asking me these questions?” Logan asked, pressing himself into the back of the chair. “They don’t have anything to do with each other. No theme. What’s going on?”

  
“My apologies, Logan,” Woodworth smiled, something that even witnessing seemed foreign. “I should have told you - I’m simply checking your memory.”

  
“Oh.” Logan relaxed slightly, though he was never fully relaxed in the first place. “I was named after him. His name is Logan Barry.”

  
“And your mothers?”

  
“I-” Logan frowned, staring at the tile floor. He knew he had a mother. She was there, dimly with the memories of the friends he used to have. But even her face eluded him. “I… I have to admit I do not remember. She had one, I’m sure.”

  
“That’s quite alright,” Woodworth wrote a hurried note and closed the file. “Logan, can you tell me about your father?”

  
“My father?” Logan didn’t move physically, but he felt as if he was shrinking to a smaller, younger version of himself. A more scared version. “What about him?”

  
“After your parents were divorced he vanished, along with you,” Woodworth said slowly, keeping eye contact with him. “That was seven years ago.”

  
“Oh.” Logan paused, sifting through the muddled memories in his head. Why was everything so mixed together? “My father…”  
A horrible feeling rose in his chest as he recalled all that had happened since he was taken from his old home.

  
“I don’t remember much.” The lie tasted bitter on his lips, which didn’t make sense other than it did.

  
“I see.” Woodworth wrote another note

  
“Where is he now?” Logan asked, glancing at the door. Perhaps this was a test, a real one made to seem completely different than the others. Perhaps his father was trying to throw him off.

  
“Your father is in police custody,” Woodworth said in a voice Logan assumed must be comforting.

  
“Why?”

  
“Logan,” Woodworth reached forward to touch Logan’s hand, but Logan pulled it back with a grimace. The doctor sighed. “Your father wasn’t supposed to have custody of you, Logan. He kidnapped you.” Logan winced, bowing his head. “Logan?”

  
“I know that,” Logan admitted, squirming a bit in his seat. Woodworth said nothing, and Logan finally glanced up again. Dr. Woodworth was just looking at him, expression unreadable. Logan winced again.

  
“I-I’m sorry I lied,” Logan said softly.

  
“What did you lie about?” Woodworth seemed genuinely confused, and Logan immediately regretted mentioning it. But there was no reason to lie again now that he had.

  
“Because I was so advanced mentally, my father wanted to help me expand my knowledge,” Logan said softly. “He took me from our home and… homeschooled me.”

  
“Thank you for telling me this,” Woodworth said softly. “I suppose you’ve been wondering what’s going on, let me explain a bit.” Logan nodded. “You seem to be in excellent health, so the social services see no reason not to return you to your mother’s custody - where you were meant to stay since the divorce. She’ll be arriving in a few minutes, is that alright with you?”

  
“I suppose it is,” Logan sighed. “As I’m still fifteen years old, I couldn't live on my own.” Woodworth chuckled and got to his feet.

  
“You can come out to the lobby with me, Logan. You’ve been stuck in this old room long enough.” Logan stood and followed him out, eyes trained on the floor.  
Somehow, despite every test and hypothetical scenario his father had forced him to think through, Logan had no idea what was going to happen next.

\-------

The ride home from the social services office was a quiet one. Logan sat in the passenger seat next to his mother. She seemed nice, just like she was in the few memories Logan could summon of her. In all honesty, she looked like he did without the sharp features from her husband. Gentle gray eyes, blond hair that was just starting to turn gray, and a dimple on only one of her cheeks.

  
Logan had all of that, but he also resembled his father, which was unfortunate. Looking over at his mother as she focused on the road, Logan decided he’d much rather have a round and gentle face than his thin angular one. The thinness might have been attributed to the amount of food Logan was usually given, though, so perhaps in time he’d look more like her.

  
“Do you live in the same house?” Logan asked, breaking the awkward silence that filled the vehicle. She looked over at him for just a moment, her dimple appearing as she smiled sadly.

  
“That’s right. I’m afraid your old bedroom might be a little immature for you now, but we can work on that,” she said.

  
“I’m sure it will be satisfactory,” Logan said as he thought back to the cold white room from his father's house, and the boring tile floor at the social services office.

  
Silence fell between them again and Logan bit his lip, staring out the window. Logically, he knew that this hadn’t been his fault. Yet, it also was. Logically. It was because of his ‘advanced mind’ that his father had taken him. That was why his mother had been left alone, trying to find him all these years. That was why it was so strange to be here, not within his father's reach, knowing that things were different now.

  
She pulled the car into a driveway and parked it. Logan peered out the window. It was familiar, but oh so strange at the same time. Single story, like all the other houses on the street.

  
“Here we are.” She smiled over at him as they both unbuckled their seatbelts. “I know you didn’t get to bring much from where you were with your father, so is it alright if we go shopping tomorrow? You can take this afternoon to settle in, take a break if you know what I mean.”

  
“That sounds satisfactory.” Logan smiled and followed her up the sidewalk. They stepped inside and Logan almost stepped out again when a comforting smell hit him. It smelled like… he didn’t know. It was the smell that accompanied the few memories he retained from his childhood.

  
“Home sweet home,” his mother smiled and put an arm around his shoulder. Logan flinched, walking farther into the house. Her arm dropped to her side, but she said nothing about it. “Why don’t you look around and get familiar with the place again? I’ll make something for lunch. Do you like pasta?”

  
“Pasta sounds excellent,” Logan said, forcing another smile as she disappeared into the kitchen. He turned to face the hallway, squinting through his glasses down at the doors.

  
He knew this hallway. The thought seemed ridiculous, but he took a few steps down anyway before stopping by the last door on the right. When he opened it, a sad smile graced his lips.

  
Logan stepped inside and turned on the light, then closed the door. Science posters covered the walls - and the space not taken up by those were covered in grade school worksheets and drawings. The bed in the corner had an old star-patterned quilt spread over it. Logan crossed the floor and pulled open the dark blue curtains. The backyard was just as hauntingly familiar. A tree he knew he should remember with an old treehouse in the branches.

  
Logan turned, fleeing the room as fast as he could. He must have passed through the kitchen on his way to the backyard, but he wasn’t really paying attention until he stood on the grass.

  
Logan breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. A slight breeze fluttered through his hair, and it smelled like springtime. It was springtime, of course. He opened his eyes again and walked over to the tree, running his fingers over the bark.

  
Tears welled up in Logan’s eyes as he thought of all that happened. Seven years he could have been an actual child instead of his fathers' pawn. He never wanted his father to take him. He never cared about how smart he was until it was all that mattered. And now he was here without his father, with nothing but faded memories and hundreds of scientific formulas in his mind.

  
“Logan, are you hungry?”

  
“Yeah, mom, I’m coming,” Logan didn’t turn for a moment. He couldn't quite comprehend the words he’d just spoken. But then he turned and followed her back inside the strangely familiar kitchen.

\-------

“Just pick something you want, Logan. Don’t worry.” Logan sighed, staring around the racks of the outlet clothing store. They’d been here all day, and so far all they had was a new pair of shoes and some mall pretzels - which tasted delicious.

  
“I don’t know,” Logan said as he looked at two different shirts. He grabbed the black polo and turned. “Can’t I just get like… four of these? That way I wouldn’t have to choose every day or anything.”

  
“Really?” his mom frowned, taking the shirt from him. “It’s black, don’t you want something with a little color?”

  
“Black is every color combined.” Logan said, picking up three more of the shirts. “Or more accurately, it absorbs every color from the white light that hits it which is why we don’t see any of them. Color is just the light that reflects off of the object in question.”

  
“...black it is then.” she smiled and took the shirts from him. “Why don’t we get you a few more pairs of jeans, too, while we’re here?”

  
“I suppose that would be necessary.” Logan agreed, adjusting his glasses. “Er… thank you, mother.”

  
“This is what I do,” she gently brushed Logan’s hair out of his face and he managed not to flinch away from her touch this time. “What do you say we stop by the book store after we get your clothes, hm?”

  
Logan tried his best to hide the excitement that stirred within him. While his father had him he’d done a lot of reading with non-fiction, but he really had missed the fantasy books he used to read. Now, he supposed, no one would stop him from choosing those. Now, he actually had a choice.

  
So, an hour and a half later when they’d arrived home and Logan put his new things in his bedroom, Logan sat on the swing on their front porch with the book in his lap. He remembered reading it when he was younger, but only dimly. He didn’t remember many details from the story, so he’d figured this would be the best book to start reading fiction again.

  
He was deeply immersed in the story - though he’d only been reading for five or ten minutes - when he heard a group of voices approaching. Logan’s head snapped up warily and he looked around, finally locating a group of boys his age walking down the sidewalk. Oh, it was afternoon. They must have gotten out of school. Logan tried not to watch them - as it was creepy - but he couldn't help but look up as they drew closer and closer. Just when he’d managed to get back into the story, one of the voices said his name.

  
“What the- Logan?”

  
Logan raised his head again, pushing his glasses back up his nose. The boys had stopped when their friend spoke, and now they were right in front of the house. How did they know his name? Who were they?

  
“That can’t be him.” Another said, tugging the first boys' backpack. Logan frowned, rubbing his finger anxiously along the edge of his book.

  
“Logan is that you?” the first boy started up the sidewalk and Logan watched, biting his lip. He didn’t remember these boys at all. What was going on? “L-Logan…?”

  
“Er- yes,” Logan finally sighed and ducked his head, closing the book slowly. “That is indeed my name…”

  
The boy squealed and ran up the steps, throwing his arms around him. Logan flinched, pushing him away. No physical contact. He hated the way it made his skin tingle and… feel so nice. Logan stood up and frowned, adjusting his glasses.

  
“I’m sorry… I don’t…” he shook his head as the other two boys hurried over.

  
“Sorry,” the second spoke. “Patton, leave him alone. He’s probably just moved here or something.”

  
“Rachel didn’t leave!” the boy - Patton - huffed. “That’s her car! And she would’ve told us! You’re Rachel’s son, right Logan?”

  
“Uh…” Logan hugged the book to his chest and turned away. He didn’t know. He hadn’t wanted to have to ask his own mothers name. He was fifteen years old for crying out loud, he should know these things!

  
“You do look like-”

  
“Sorry, I should go.” Logan choked out, pushing past them to the door. “Er- I’m sorry I don’t seem to recognize you. Goodbye.” he scrambled inside and closed the door, then pressed his ear against it to listen.

  
“God, could you have been any creepier?” the voice of the second boy asked.

  
“That was Logan!” Patton insisted. “Roman, that was him wasn’t it?”

  
“It… it looked like him…” the third voice sighed. “It doesn’t matter. We can ask Rachel when we bring cookies on Saturday. Let’s go watch Disney - it’s movie night, remember?”

  
“Okay…” Patton sighed. Logan listened as their footsteps faded away.

  
“Logan sweetheart, is that you?” his mom stepped out of the office and took off her glasses. “What’s wrong?”

  
“M-mother,” Logan turned toward her but kept his head down.

  
“Yes dear?”

  
“What is your name?” Shame twisted inside him as she took a quick breath and paused. He was a horrible son. He couldn't even remember his own mothers name.

  
“Rachel, darling. My name is Rachel.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan hasn't gone to a real school in seven years. That won't stop him from expecting it to be easy, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE BOTTOM

One of the social workers came to visit on that afternoon. Logan had been reading in the kitchen - having decided he didn’t want to risk being outside for the rest of the day. He was sure now that those three boys must be the ones from his memories. The faded ones he barely remembered. But he didn’t know them, he didn’t know anyone. Logan knew things, not people. That’s just how it was - how it had been since his father took him.

  
“How are you settling in?” the social worker asked now, looking at him with kind eyes. Logan vaguely remembered her being there when Dr. Woodworth brought him out to the lobby, but that had been a weird day.

  
“... as well as I can, I suppose,” Logan said.

  
“Okay,” the Social worker paused and looked through a few of her papers. “Well Logan, Dr. Woodworth suggested that we get you a therapist. Is that something you would like to do? It would probably help a lot with everything you’re feeling.”

  
“A therapist?” Logan shook his head. “I don’t need a therapist.”

  
“But wouldn’t it be nice to talk to someone?” she asked, smiling sweetly at him. Logan frowned, shaking his head again.

  
“No.” they looked at each other for another moment before the social worker sighed and nodded.

  
“Alright then, Logan,” She rearranged her papers and looked up at him again. “Well, we just want to know how you feel going forward. We’re aware that your father gave you some very advanced homeschooling, do you know what level you’d be at?”

  
“I don’t know specifically,” Logan said softly, looking at his hands. “But the last of the ACT tests I took scored 36.”

  
“Oh!” She seemed surprised, and Logan glanced up for just a moment. “Well, I was planning to ask if you wanted to start going to high school with your grade, but if-”

  
“Yes.” Logan interrupted her, then winced. “Sorry, uh… I’d actually like that.” A chance to be a real fifteen-year-old, possibly with friends? And actual teachers? Yes, please.

  
“Really?”

  
“I haven’t really associated with any one of my age since we left,” Logan explained softly, glancing toward the doorway where his mother had exited. “And I’d like to.”

  
“In that case,” the social worker pulled a few more papers from her bag. “We just need yours and your mother's signatures and you can start school on Monday. We can sign you up for advanced classes if you’d like, instead of the default ones.”

  
“Default will be fine,” Logan said, rubbing his arm. He didn’t want to be more of a freak than he already knew he was.

  
“Alrighty then!” she passed the paper over to him and Logan signed it, eyes barely skimming the list of classes. Is this what normal kids did every school year? To him it seemed foreign, but what if for everyone else this was normal? “We’ll just get your mothers signature and then on Monday you can start at the school. I’m sure the principal and teachers will be open to helping you with everything.”

  
“That sounds satisfactory.” Logan agreed, letting a small smile cross his face. He hadn’t had much use for smiles before, but perhaps now that he was going to be normal, that would change.

  
But maybe not.

\---------

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Rachel asked, looking out the windshield. Logan frowned.

  
“Ready for what?”

  
“Well, it’s just that… you were missing for seven years, Logan,” she said softly. “And if you won't talk to a therapist we don’t really know what happened to you, and I just want to make sure you feel safe.”

  
“I’ll be fine,” Logan said as he fiddled with the straps of his backpack. “Father didn’t hurt me, mother.” Lie.

  
“I… I know that, sweetie.” Rachel sighed and brushed her hair away. “I’m sorry if I seem a little…”

  
“You’re experiencing normal levels of anxiety about this,” Logan said gently. “It’s natural for a parent to worry even under normal circumstances. I’m not surprised you feel nervous.” Rachel smiled, patting Logan’s shoulder gently. Logan winced, turning to look out the window. “So don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” After all, if he could pass one of his father's tests he could go to public school. It just made sense.

  
“Okay,” Rachel sighed as she pulled up next to the sidewalk. “The principal’s name is Mrs. Thompson. She said she’d be happy to have another student show you around or give you a map. You have the schedule?”

  
“I do.” Logan smiled one more time before getting out of the car.

  
Smiling was strange, he’d found. Since he returned to his mother's home he’d been trying to do it more - as she didn’t have any rules against it. That, and she seemed happier to see him smile. So, Logan would smile. He had read a study a few years ago about how smiling could actually improve brain function and increase the levels of serotonin and dopamine in the human brain, and he was pleased to find that seemed true. So why hadn’t his father allowed smiling?

  
“I’m Logan Barry,” Logan said to the secretary. “I was supposed to see Mrs. Thompson before the bell?”

  
“Oh, that’s right!” the secretary fumbled through unorganized piles of paper for a moment. “Hey, I remember you! You used to be friends with my brother!”

  
“I-I did?” Logan shook his head, trying to ignore the confusion. “I mean… it’s possible.”

  
“Roman thought highly of you,” the secretary hit a few buttons on the phone and spoke into it. “Logan Barry is here, Ann.” Logan stood awkwardly for another moment before the secretary - Logan finally noticed the nameplate under another pile of papers read Mx. Prince - looked up and smiled. “Go right on in!”

  
“Th-thank you.” Logan went to the door They’d pointed at and knocked, then stepped inside. He couldn't keep thoughts of ‘friends’ from his mind. Roman Prince. That had been the name of one of the boys last week - the quieter one? Maybe. He hadn’t spoken much.

  
“Ah, Logan,” Mrs. Thompson stood up and shook his hand. “I’m glad you decided to attend. I heard you were very advanced -”

  
“People hear a lot of things,” Logan said, forcing a smile. “I’m simply happy to be here. I’ve always liked learning.”

  
“Yes,” Thompson picked up a few papers from her desk. “Do you want another student to show you around? We have several in the student council who would be happy to help you.”

  
“I’ll be alright with a map,” Logan said. He adjusted his glasses nervously. “Thank you.”

  
“Alright then,” she handed one of the papers to him. “If you have any questions feel free to come to see me. All the teachers will help you too!”

  
“Er,” Logan’s eyes widened at a thought. “They don’t all know my situation do they?”

  
“Oh of course not,” Thompson laughed. “Just me and your counselor - but they’re out on business. The secret is safe with me, Mr. Barry!”

  
“Thank you.” Logan nodded and left the office, looking down at the map. He looked at his arm, where he’d scribbled the schedule in blue ink. The first class was Biology in room 210. He smiled, turning toward a stairway. Biology would be simple, as he was very good with science. Whether that was him or the way his father had insisted he learn it, Logan wasn’t sure.

  
Public school couldn't be as hard as he’d heard, could it? Logan scanned the room numbers with a small smirk. After all, it was just learning.

\---------

Three classes in and Logan decided he didn’t like people. How loud could a teenager be? Apparently very loud. And there were hundreds of them in the same building as he was. The hallways were too crowded and the desks were too close together. After the first class, Logan started sitting in the back corner so that there was only someone on two sides of him. That felt safer, more secure.

  
It wasn’t until fourth period that he saw one of the boys that had seemed to know him. It was the second boy - whose name Logan didn’t know. He was already sitting in the back row when Logan arrived. Despite the fact that they’d never spoken, and that Logan didn’t really know who this boy was, it was nice to see something familiar.

  
He wore the same jacket from the week before, black with purple patches sewn on. His hair had probably been brown at some point but was dyed a bright purple. Logan was sure it hadn’t been that vibrant the last time he saw him.

  
Logan sat in the back corner and sighed softly, looking at the class name again. Art 2. Why was that a default? Art wasn’t logical, it was just… something else. He knew art history, like the renaissance, but he’d never drawn a picture in his life. Well, perhaps that wasn’t true. There were drawings on his bedroom walls from seven years ago, all signed by him. Perhaps drawing wouldn’t be so-

  
“Logan Barry?” Logan’s head snapped up when the teacher said his name. “Are you here?” oh, roll call.

  
“Here.” Logan raised his hand a bit, then looked back down at the desk. It was covered in drips of dried paint and pencil marks. The boy two seats down was staring at him. The teacher kept reading names.

  
Perhaps now he’d learn the boys' name without having to speak to him after all. Logan kept one eye on the other boy as the list continued until finally the last name was called.

  
“Virgil Webb?”

  
“Here.” the boys' voice was low, and may sound threatening based on human’s self-preservation instincts, but Logan found it familiar. Perhaps because he’d heard it the week before.

  
“Okay!” the teacher clapped and walked to the front. “Today we’re starting our abstract project. We went over the abstract styles last week - erm - if anyone has a question or wasn’t here, feel free to ask a neighbor or me and we can help you out.”

  
The teacher looked at Logan as they said this, and Logan scowled. Why hadn’t he looked closer at the list of classes before letting them schedule?

  
“Okay, start thinking of projects and check them off with me once you decide!” The teacher clapped again and went to their desk.  
Logan frowned uneasily, glancing around. To his surprise, Virgil had moved two desks over and was now right by him.

  
“Hey,” Virgil stared at the ground as he spoke. “Uh, first off, I’m sorry about last week, Patton is-”

  
“It’s alright,” Logan said. “I was simply startled.”

  
“Anyway, uh, I’m Virgil.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “Basically the project is whatever you want. You can make something out of any material like paint or clay - as long as it’s abstract.”

  
“I’ve never understood abstract art,” Logan confessed. “Art in general, actually. It’s illogical…” he trailed off when Virgil looked at him, then cleared his throat. “Erm, but thank you. I’m glad to have that explained.”

  
“No problem.” Virgil gave a small salute before turning to his own desk and pulling out a sketchbook. “You can ask me anything, okay?” Logan hesitated, but Virgil sounded sincere. And he had been kind and respectful to both Logan and his friends the week before outside the house. Logan smiled - and he found he didn’t have to force it.

  
“Okay.”

\--------

Logan sighed, absently doodling a house on the corner of the worksheet. He’d finished the math assignment almost half an hour ago - and there was still twenty minutes left of class. After this was lunch, which thankfully he’d brought and didn’t have to stand in a line or anything. He couldn't quite remember how school lunch worked - he hadn’t been since he was eight years old after all.

  
Logan scowled, glaring at the house he’d drawn. It was familiar - more familiar somehow than the one he lived in now. It was where he’d lived with his father for the past seven years. His father wasn’t horrible, he supposed. It could have been worse. There were so many things that could have happened that didn’t happen. Logan roughly erased the house, then put down his pencil and glanced around.

  
Most of the other students were still bent over their worksheets, varying looks of confusion on their faces. There was one, though, sitting a few seats away from Logan in the back, who was finished. He was leaning his chair back on two legs. When he saw Logan looking at him he smiled, dropping back down onto four.  
“You’re new,” a few moments later the boy was standing by Logan’s desk, casually looking at the worksheet.

  
“Er, yes. I’m Logan.” Logan smiled nervously.

  
“Call me Dee.” Logan nodded. “Where’d you transfer from?”

  
“Uh… I was homeschooled,” Logan looking at his hands and shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

  
“We’ve got time-”

  
“Mr. Lyde, Mr. Barry, are you done with your homework already?” Logan’s head snapped up at the irritated voice.

  
“Sure are.” Dee grinned over at the teacher. “Sorry Ms. Z, want us to shut up?”

  
“No, just don’t distract the other students.” Ms. Z shook her head and went back to grading papers. Dee chuckled, looking back to Logan.

  
“I’m pretty sure Ms. Z hates me,” he confessed. Logan frowned.

  
“Why is that?”

  
“I skipped a grade to be here and I’m still smarter than her,” Dee said, shrugging. “It’s not my fault, I just understand math better. Is that a sin?”

  
“Of course not,” Logan said, putting the homework into his bag. He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes left.

  
“I figured you’d understand,” Dee grinned. “You finished before I did. You’re smart.”

  
“Oh, thank you.” Logan found himself smiling genuinely again. Dee turned and sat in the empty chair next to Logan’s, putting his feet on the desk.

  
“So what made you decide to come to public school now?” he asked curiously. “It’s the middle of the term.”

  
“A long story,” Logan looked away. “Like I said.”

  
“Aight, you don’t have to share,” Dee chuckled. “You do have to hang with me at lunch though, okay? Can’t have you sitting along or anything.”

  
“Wh- really?” Logan grinned, turning to fully face him.

  
“Sure! I mean, you need someone to help you out a bit, y’know? I’m sure you’ll make better friends than me, but until you do we can hang out.” Logan noticed a small hint of bitterness in Dee’s voice, but that wasn’t his affair.

  
“So… we are friends, then?” Logan asked cautiously. Dee laughed, leaning to put an arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan winced, pulling away.

  
“Of course we are - sorry.” Dee sat back when Logan moved. “I guess you don’t like hugs?”

  
“I…” Logan hesitated. He didn’t hate the physical contact… but he wasn’t used to it. And he didn’t like it much, either. “Not really. Unless you need one.”

  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dee chuckled. “It’s a good thing you haven’t met my cousin yet, though. He’ll hug you no matter what you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I mean to post on this more often, and I still plan to, but in the next few weeks I'm planning as coming out as Trans to my parents. I don't know exactly what will happen, so I might not be able to update this. Know that I AM planning on finishing this, but if I stop updating... it's because my computer was taken away or smth.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading this! <3 <3  
> -Coby


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds that getting 'into the swing of things', as his mother says, is much harder than it seems. especially when you don't know what half of those 'things' are.

That week seemed to go by faster than it should. The classes - apart from Art - were easy. Virgil sat next to him in art, but they didn’t talk much. Logan was okay with that. He’d noticed the other two boys from his past in the halls and cafeteria, but they didn’t share any classes. He sat with Dee at lunch, and on Friday received a surprising invitation.

“So uh,” Dee rubbed the back of his neck while they stood by their locker. Logan looked up from where he was transferring textbooks. “My cousin has these movie nights every Friday...”

“The hugging cousin?” Logan asked, slipping his history textbook into his bag.

“Yeah, him. And he always invites me and says to bring my friends,” Dee trailed off, Logan knew he was nervous. Though the other boy claimed he was never anxious, he knew that was a lie.

“Are you and your friends going?” Logan asked, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“That’s the thing, uh…” Dee sighed. “I don’t have many friends, usually. Just you…”

“Oh.”

“And he doesn’t really know that,” Dee continued quickly. “I make it seem like I have friends, and he’s friends with like everyone, so he doesn’t understand how-”

“Would you like me to come, then?” Logan asked as they started toward the doors. Dee smiled in relief.

“Yeah… only if you want to!” he added. “I mean, I’m sure you and my cousin’s friends would get along. And you could probably use some more, and-”

“Dee,” Logan smiled. “I’d like to. I haven’t watched many movies recently, anyway.”

“Cool!” Dee pulled out a phone from his pocket. “I’ll text you the address, what’s your number?”

“I uh, I don’t have a phone,” Logan flushed slightly. “Would a pen and paper suffice?”

“Sure,” Dee put the device away and accepted the small notebook Logan offered. “I think he lives on your street, actually. His name’s Patton, ring any bells?” Logan’s eyes widened slightly. “You know him?”

“Er- we met. Once.” Logan smirked. “He tried to hug me, seemed to think he recognized me.” Dee laughed, passing the notebook back.

“That’s him! Anyway, I gotta grab my bus and it looks like your ride is here, be there at five okay? Just tell him I sent you and he’ll be fine.”

“See you then,” Logan watched as Dee sprinted toward the busses, then turned and got in his mother's car.

“Hey sweetie, how was school?” Rachel asked as she started the car.

“It was fine,” Logan shrugged. “Er …” how was he supposed to gain permission for this? She knew he was friends with a boy named Dee, but not much else. There wasn’t much else to tell.

“What were you and Dee talking about just now? You seemed happy.” Thank god for observant mothers. Logan smiled.

“Uh, his cousin is having a movie night,” He adjusted his glasses anxiously. “Our neighbor, actually. The…” he looked down at the notebook. “The Harts.”

“Oh! That must be Patton’s cousin, then?” Rachel beamed. “He skipped a grade, you know. I’m not surprised you two are friends.”

“Uh, yes, well,” Logan shrugged. “Would it be alright if I attended?”

“The movie night? Of course!” Rachel reached over and squeezed Logan’s arm. “I’m glad you’re getting back into the swing of things so well.”

“Thank you,” Logan let out a slow breath, mulling thoughts over in his head. So it was Patton. That meant Virgil and Roman would most likely be there - and Dee of course. But who else? He didn’t really know anyone else from school. Logan sighed, shaking his head. Worrying won't help. He had time to make sure he was ready - and besides. Dee was right when he said Logan needed more friends, it was one of the most important things to a human’s mental health. The past seven years, that was one thing he’d lacked. But not only was it ‘necessary’, Logan wanted to go.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

It was five, and Logan was nervous. He stood on the front porch of the Harts house, hand poised over the doorbell, but it wouldn’t move. He could hear the voices of Patton and his friends inside. Dee wasn’t there yet, was he coming? He said he’d come. What if this was some kind of trick? What if-

“You doing the mannequin challenge or something?” Logan jumped, turning to see his friend at the bottom of the steps. Dee skipped up them, chuckling. “I knew you’d be nervous. Come on, Patton knows we’re coming.”

“Sorry,” Logan squirmed a bit, but Dee just clapped his shoulder before knocking three times and opening the door.

“Hey Patt!” he called, stepping in. “We’re here!” Patton squealed, rushing out of a room on the left. Logan glanced around. While the house looked similar to his on the outside, the interior was different.

“Dee! I’m so glad you could come!” he hugged his cousin and Dee sighed, rolling his eyes at Logan. Logan smirked. Patton gasped, turning to him.

“Logan!”

“No hugs, please…” Logan held up his hands with an apologetic smile. Patton nodded, though he seemed uncertain about something.

“Let’s go in!” Patton declared, turning back to the doorway. “Roman and Virgil are already here - we’re choosing the movie lineup!” Logan glanced at Dee, who exaggerated a shrug before following Patton in. Logan took a nervous breath and did the same.

“Logan?” Virgil seemed surprised, but pleased to see him there. “I didn’t know you were friends with Dee?” Logan shrugged.

“We have the same math class,” Dee explained. “But Logan’s too smart for it.”

“What?” Logan scowled. “No, I-”

“I’m Roman.” Roman stood, extending a hand. Logan shook it, glad for the distraction.

“Logan.”

“We know who you are,” Patton rolled his eyes. “You lived here when you were little, right?”

“You did?” Dee looked at him with a frown. Logan looked at the floor and adjusted his glasses.

“Er- it’s a long story. What movie are we watching?” god, he didn’t know any good movies. All he’d watched with his father were documentaries.

“The lineup right now is Aladdin first, then Big Hero 6, and then Sleeping Beauty,” Roman said, turning to a table with stacks of DVD cases on it. Logan nodded, though he only recognized the last title Roman listed.

“What’s your favorite?” Patton asked cheerfully, pulling 101 Dalmations from the stack. “This is yours, right Dee?”

“Yes.”

Logan smirked but said nothing. Father had taught him how to read people, and spending a lot of time with Dee the last week taught Logan to know when he was lying. He’d lied through his teeth, and no one seemed to notice as Patton added the DVD to the stack. Dee shrugged at his questioning look.

“Logan? What’s yours?” Logan hadn’t realized they were looking at him and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I don’t have one.” Not a movie, anyway. He was quite fond of a few specific documentaries, but he didn’t know their titles.

“You don’t have a favorite movie?” Patton asked in surprise.

“That’s okay, we already have four,” Virgil spoke up, standing from his place on the couch. “That’s a lot of movies.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Patton shrugged. “So Aladdin first?”

“Yes!” Roman punched a fist into the air. “I love this movie!”

“You love every movie,” Virgil chuckled as he put the disk in.

“Take a seat and get comfy!” Patton declared, throwing a pillow at Roman’s face. “This is gonna be fun!”

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Movies, Logan decided, were one of the best things modern technology had created. He’d already been in love with the cinematic way some documentaries were made, but this was a whole new level. And it was animated! All the movies they’d watched were animated in their own unique styles and it was just… amazing. Out of the four they watched, however, Logan was particularly fond of the second. Big Hero 6, he thought it was called. There were several reasons he liked it, one would be that it was based of science. Science that could in fact be possible in the coming years, no less. That and the plot… he just liked it all.

After the final movie - 101 Dalmatians - had finished Patton pulled a large plastic tub from a closet. Logan hadn’t realized that movie night was more than just four movies and a big bowl of popcorn.

“What should we play?” Patton asked, looking around as he pulled the lid off. “Uno, Monopoly, Phase Ten…” “

Not Monopoly.” Virgil said, sitting on the floor next to Roman. “Someone always cheats!”

“You can’t prove that,” Roman said smugly. Logan smiled, listening as the two continued to bicker. Dee was seated between him and Roman, and Patton completed the circle by sitting between Logan and Virgil.

“What do you want to play?” Patton asked, turning to look at him. Logan frowned, peering into the tub of different games.

“Er - I don’t know…” he didn’t know what these were. Logan bit his lip anxiously. He didn’t know what a simple game was - and everyone else seemed completely familiar with them. It was like with the movies - Logan was clueless.

“Let’s play poker!” Dee declared, laughing. Patton rolled his eyes, while Roman and Virgil also laughed. Logan felt warmth creeping up his neck. He didn’t know what that was, either. Why was it funny?

“We aren’t gambling, Dee,” Patton laughed. “Let’s just play Uno, yeah?”

“I vote Uno!” Roman said loudly, raising his hand.

“I dunno, Poker sounds fun,” Virgil said, making a face.

“Haha. Very funny.” Patton shook his head. “Well, Logan? You’re the tiebreaker.”

Logan stood up, turning to hide his bright red face.

“Logan?”

“I uh- I just realized I have… homework, and-”

“You finish your homework in class every day,” Dee pointed out.

Logan didn’t answer, hurrying toward the front door.

“Logan? Hey, wait a second-” he caught up as Logan stepped onto the front porch. It was dark, but not cold.

“I’m sorry, I have to…” Logan shook his head, not wanting to finish.

“Dude, are you-” Logan looked away and brushed at his eyes, starting down the steps. “Logan- hey, stop it!” Dee grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face him. Logan avoided looking at his face, instead keeping his eyes at shoulder level like he had with his father.

“I have to go, Dee,” he pulled away and sighed. “My apologies for cutting tonight short, er, would you apologize to the others for me?”

“Logan, you’re cryi-”

“I’m not!” Logan snapped, slapping his friends hand away. “I just have to go home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Then he turned and sprinted across the connected lawns to his own front door and slipped inside, locked it, and hurried to his room before his mother could ask him anything. How stupid that he thought he could be normal just like that. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t remember anything from his childhood - he just knew what his father had taught him. Math, science, history, even everything about language arts. What his father didn’t teach him was how to play whatever ‘uno’ was. Or how to act like someone who wasn’t kidnapped as a child. Logan stared at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, barely seeing them. He’d been forced to learn that he was smart. So why did what happened tonight make him feel so stupid?

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

“What the hell is going on!” Dee demanded, storming back into his cousin’s living room. The three friends glanced at each other warily and Dee groaned in annoyance.

“Is Logan okay?”

“No, Patton, he’s not!” Dee hissed. “And I don’t know why! I didn’t even know he used to live here! Tell me what’s going on, now!”

“Dude, calm down.” Roman got to his feet, scowling. “This isn’t something people just talk about, okay?”

“He’s my friend!” Dee yelled, trying to hold back tears. “He’s the only person who seems to think I’m worth it, and now he left and didn’t trust me enough to talk about it and I want to know what you know because he’s my friend!”

“Okay, okay,” Virgil’s voice cut through the tension between the two. “Roman, sit down. Dee, you too. We’ll talk.”

Dee sat, still fuming, and looked expectantly at his cousin’s friend. Virgil looked to Patton, who sighed as he stared at the ground.

“When we were kids, Logan’s parents were still together,” he said softly. Dee scowled. “They fought sometimes, but we were kids and Logan acted like it was fine. We’d play in his treehouse, and do everything together. The four of us, I mean. Then they got divorced, I don’t really know why. But the next thing we knew, Logan and his dad were gone. I found out a few years later that…” Patton hesitated and glanced around at all of them.

“...what did you find out?” Roman asked slowly, scowling nearly as deeply as Dee was. Dee was surprised. Didn’t Patton tell his friends everything?

“I heard my parents talking,” Patton mumbled. “And… Logan’s dad wasn’t supposed to have custody of him. The divorce was because he was starting to get abusive, and he was only supposed to see Logan on the weekends. But they both vanished, and…”

“Are you serious?” Virgil asked, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I wasn’t supposed to know!” Patton said. “I didn’t even tell my parents I knew! So when I saw Logan a few weeks ago on the porch, I got excited. That’s why I wanted to go see him. And… yeah.”

“Seriously?” Dee stared at them. It felt like the world around him was falling apart. Logan said it was a long story… but this? What was he supposed to do? He wasn’t good at being friends with normal people, let alone people who’d been kidnapped…

“We shouldn’t talk about this anymore.” Roman suddenly said, getting to his feet. “It’s none of our business anyway, let’s call it a night.”

“Okay,” Patton said glumly. “See you guys.”

Roman and Virgil left minutes after each other, and Dee found himself still sitting on the floor in Patton’s living room.

“You can stay the night,” Patton tossed a pillow at him. Dee caught it in surprise. Patton smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry you didn’t know, Dee.” Dee just shook his head, flopping backward onto the pillow. What was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thanks for your support about me coming out - it didn't go worst case and so these updates will be pretty regular now! Maybe every other week, depending on how the writing goes. ANYWAY! Hope you liked this chapter, and to address something from before - Dee isn't an antagonist here. Sympathetic deceit, I guess. So don't y'all worry about that lol.   
> Worry about everything else.  
> MWAHAHAHA  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and feel free to comment and leave kudos!  
> Hasta la pasta!  
> -Coby


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to face the facts - even when that was all Logan was allowed to do the seven years he was with his father. He hates to think the man did anything wrong. 
> 
> But he did, didn't he?

The Social worker came again that Saturday. Logan now knew her name was Jackie Turner. She requested he call her Jackie. He’d been reading all day in his room until she arrived, apparently wanting to speak to him.

“We need to know more about your father,” she said gently when they were both seated at the kitchen table. His mother had left - apparently, she was not allowed to influence him. That made sense. Logan frowned, looking down at the table.

“What about my father?”

“You’ve been traumatized,” Jackie said gently. “We just need to know what happened between you two.”

“I’m not traumatized!” Logan snapped, glaring at her. He couldn't be, right? Though… that may explain some things. He sighed, burying his face in his hands. 

“Nothing bad will happen to you when you tell me,” Jackie promised. “It’s already happened, hasn’t it?” That was true. Logan sighed, staring at the tablecloth. What was he supposed to say?

“Logan,” Logan flinched when Jackie touched his arm. She moved her hand back and sighed. 

“Why do you need to know what happened?” Logan finally asked, looking back up at her.

“To keep him in prison for as long as we can.”

Logan knew he should be happy to hear that. He should be happy to know the man would never come near him, or speak to him, or even look at him again. That was the logical thing he should feel, considering all the man had done to him. But he wasn’t. Instead, he hated the very thought of it. Of his father sitting in a prison cell, getting what he deserved. It made him nauseous.

“N-no.” Logan stood up, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Jackie stared at him.

“Logan?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Logan said, breathing deeply in an attempt to stay calm. “I’m not going to. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Logan, he won’t find out if-”

“Leave me alone.” Logan turned and left the kitchen through the back door, tears welling up in his eyes. What was he doing? Logan wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing anymore. And he could hardly focus on anything - which hadn’t really happened to him before. 

Everything just seemed too loud, and too bright, and just… too real. Logan found himself sitting with his back against the tree, staring unsteadily at the fence bordering their yard. He clamped his eyes shut, trying to shut out the world around him. That was impossible, he knew, but he could pretend he didn’t know that. He could pretend that he was normal, that he knew things all the other people his age knew, that he had a normal life. But he hadn’t. And it wasn’t fair.

“Logan?” Logan didn’t answer, unsure if it was Jackie or his mother speaking from the back door. He didn’t want to talk about his father, couldn't they both understand that? What did they need to know other than the fact Logan was kidnapped by the person he looked up to most, and forced to study instead of do anything else?

Did they even know that? What did they know?

“Logan, please.” Someone touched his shoulder and Logan’s eyes snapped open. He slapped his mother's hand away and scrambled to his feet, shaking.

“Don’t touch me!” He said, trying to keep his voice under control to no avail. “You aren’t supposed to touch me!”

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Logan shook his head, backing away toward the house. He didn’t know what to do. What rules should he follow? His father's, or the ones he still hadn’t learned yet?

“I-I don’t want to talk to you.” Logan turned and went toward the house, pushing past Jackie on his way. “I don’t want to talk to any of you!”

“But why-”

“It’s against his rules!” Logan finally cried, clamping his eyes shut. “Don’t you get it? Can’t you just leave me alone?” Silence. Logan slammed the door to his room closed and flopped face first onto his bed, trying to keep tears from rolling down his face.

Tears were against the rules, too. So were smiles. So was physical contact. So was talking about anything but what Logan was supposed to be learning. Those were the rules, among many others, that he’d been following for seven years. So why was it nearly impossible to follow them now?

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

Logan stared down into his cereal bowl, trying to squash the emotions and thoughts that swirled around inside him. The kitchen was awkwardly silent, Rachel sitting across from him with her own breakfast. Logan didn’t know what to do.

He’d stayed in his room since Saturday, but he had to attend school now. That in itself was against the rules as he’d have to leave the house without his father’s permission, but Logan knew he’d have to. He might be punished for it when his father found out, but he had to do it. 

God. Logan’s stomach twisted as he remembered running from the movie night on Friday. What was he supposed to do? He was running from everyone, and they all seemed to want to help. Completely unlike his father, who demanded they stay distant so Logan could learn.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go to school, Logan?” Logan lifted his gaze slightly and nodded. Rachel sighed, tucking hair behind her ear. “Alright then, we should get going so you aren’t late.” 

Logan nodded, pursing his lips to avoid speaking as he followed her out to the driveway. With the unpredictable things his emotions had been doing lately, there was no telling what he’d say if he let himself speak. So, it was best not to.

The ride to the school was just as silent, but Logan was sure to smile at his mother before leaving. It made her happy, so Logan would just have to deal with the consequences.

Logan did his best to avoid Dee and the others before school and between classes. It wasn’t until Art that he realized he’d have to at least acknowledge Virgil, seeing as they sat next to each other. He sighed, staring at the ground as he waited for the bell to ring. 

As expected, Virgil collapsed into the chair next to Logan the way he had the week before, and Logan braced himself to be questioned. But Virgil didn’t say anything, only nodded politely when Logan glanced over. This was what Logan wanted, but he still couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Perhaps Virgil and the others didn’t want to be associated with him after what happened. Logan wouldn’t be surprised.

Logan had no idea what he was doing with this art project, but he wasn’t going to ask Virgil. He didn’t want to talk, and he most definitely didn’t want to open the metaphorical wall that was built up between him and the other boy.

Abstract, Logan had found, was the most difficult kind of art imaginable. He was beyond relieved when the bell rang and he left to his next class, mind buzzing worriedly as he wondered what Dee would say when they saw each other.

However, when the bell rang to signal the beginning of class, Dee still hadn’t arrived. At first, Logan figured he didn’t want to sit together anymore. But once he looked around, it was apparent that his friend wasn’t in class at all. Well, at least now Logan didn’t have to worry about that awkward confrontation today.

Logan sighed softly, running a finger over the edge of the page he was reading. Why did lunch feel so long today? It usually didn’t last this long, Right? Perhaps it felt like that because he didn’t have the distraction of Dee to keep him company. He glanced at his watch and sighed. There was still fifteen minutes left. 

Logan winced when some tenth graders from a few tables over yelled, conversation growing louder than ever. That, mixed with the rest of the cafeteria, was doing nothing to settle his nerves. Logan just wanted to go home, was that too much to ask?

Logan slipped his book into his backpack stood up, deciding to find a quieter place to read. He was leaving the cafeteria when he overheard another group of students talking.

“Ten seconds.”

The statement made Logan’s breathing hitch, and he stopped walking despite himself.

“Ten.”

He had to finish. 

“Nine.”

If he didn’t finish by the time they reached one, he’d be in trouble. He’d have broken a rule.

“Eight,”

They were laughing an joking, Logan wasn’t sure if it was the student’s voice or his father's counting down anymore.

“Seven.”

What was he supposed to be finishing? Logan didn’t have anything to finish. There was no test.

“Six.”

He had almost no time to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to break the rules again.

“Five.”

The cafeteria faded from his senses, replaced by a blurry mess of color and sound. He had to finish.

“Four.”

“Are you okay?”

“Three.”

“Logan- Logan! Are you okay?”

“Two.”

He was going to fail again. He’d broken the rules and he hadn’t finished. He hadn’t even started the test and there was no time left.

“One.”

“Logan!” Logan’s eyes snapped open when someone grabbed his arm. He gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. 

Lunch continued around him, no one even seeming to notice he was seated on the floor. No one but the boy in front of him, one hand still closed around Logan’s wrist. Logan nearly stopped breathing for a moment before he realized it wasn’t his father.

He pulled his arm back, stumbling to his feet. He had to get out of here - find somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could touch him or talk to him.

“Logan!” Logan pushed through the crowd of students, hating the contact he made every time. Before he knew it, Logan was outside the school, head spinning. He darted between the wall and a decorative hedge, trying to regain control of his breathing.

He didn’t know what was happening, just that he was having an illogical reaction. He could hardly breathe - hardy think straight. It was like what happened when he was talking to Jackie, but somehow worse.

“Logan - Logan please let me help you.”

Logan’s head snapped up and his eyes met green. It was Roman. Roman Prince. One of Patton’s friends. Patton was Dee’s cousin. Logan didn’t know where Dee was today, he hadn’t been in class.

“Logan?” Roman seemed uncertain, not reaching toward Logan a second time. “Can you hear me?”

“Wh-” Logan managed to get his breathing to slow so he could speak. “What are you doing here?”

“You were having a panic attack.” Roman shrugged, tracing shapes in the dirt between them. “Virgil has those sometimes - I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I’m your friend,” Roman said, rolling his eyes. “At least… I was. When we were kids.”

“Oh.” Logan took a few more deep breaths and sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I don’t remember much…” 

“Are you feeling any better?” Roman asked, redirecting the conversation to the present. Logan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the fear and unease he felt knowing father would never let him talk to the other boy. Or anyone.

“I’ll live.” Logan finally mumbled. “Sorry I worried you, Roman.”

“I was looking for you anyway,” Roman replied. “We were all worried when you left on Friday.” Logan flushed, looking away.

“Oh, that. Well-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Roman said, settling against the wall beside him. “I won’t ask you anything. Dee might, and so will Patton.”

“I’m afraid Dee wasn’t in class today,” Logan said softly, hugging his knees to his chest. “Though he could very well be ill, or something, I feel as if he was avoiding it because of me.”

“Dee likes math.” Roman scoffed. “He has a good reason for missing. He was worried about you the most, y’know.”

“Was he?” Logan tilted his head back to look at the sliver of sky between the hedge and wall.

“He made Patton explain about how you lived here before,” Roman said after a brief moment. Logan said nothing. “He was upset that he didn’t know, but not because of you.”

“It was illogical of me to attend the movie night in the first place,” Logan said, shaking his head. “Father always said that movies were only good for education - the entertaining ones are useless.” 

Roman said nothing, just copied Logan’s position to stare at the sky.

That’s where they sat until the bell rang, and then they went their separate ways without speaking - only a nod to each other as they left. It was strange, but Logan found those few minutes a comforting memory to look back on.

A comforting memory he could actually remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah! That was that chapter... we got a little more of Roman in there that I thought you'd enjoy. Glad so many of you are enjoying this fic!  
> Thanks for reading!!  
> -Coby


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan learns more about art, and in the process, he somehow learns more about himself.

“Logan?” Logan looked up when there was a soft knock at the door and Rachel poked her head in. “Dee’s here, do you feel up to hanging out with him?”

“Dee?” A strange, wonderful emotion welled up and he put his book to the side, nodding. “Yeah, of course, I do.” Rachel beamed, turning to speak to someone down the hall. Logan got up and followed her, not willing to be in such a closed space with the other boy.

“Logan!” Dee beamed when Logan walked into sight. “How are you?”

“Well enough.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Where were you today?”

“Oh,” Dee shook his head. “Just family stuff came up, nothing bad or important.”

“Will you be here for dinner?” Rachel asked from the kitchen. “We’re having chicken alfredo.” Logan looked to Dee, who hesitated before shaking his head.

“Sorry Mrs. Barry,” he said. “I can’t stay for very long. I just wanted to hang out for a little bit - is that okay?”

“Of course.”

Logan shuffled his feet awkwardly, hyperaware that Dee now knew about his parents' divorce and his disappearance.

“Do you want to see my treehouse?” he finally asked, just for something to say. Dee seemed surprised, but nodded and followed him through the kitchen into the backyard. “I need to fix it up a bit,” Logan explained as they walked toward the tree. “I haven’t used it for seven years.”

“You should ask Patton’s friend about that!” Dee suddenly turned, grinning. “He’s super creative! He’s done basically all the fine arts they have to offer at school - including the woodwork and building class.” Logan frowned.

“Who, Virgil?” he was in art, after all. 

“What- the emo kid?” Dee shook his head. “The redhead. What’s his name…”

“Roman,” Logan said softly, looking back at the treehouse. “Roman Prince.”

“That’s him.” Dee snapped his fingers. “I can help too, of course, I’m just no good with tools.”

“Neither am I,” Logan confessed, adjusting his glasses. “But it can’t be that hard, can it?” Dee chuckled and shrugged.

“I wouldn’t know. But anyway, I really am sorry I didn’t tell you I’d be gone today. How’d it go?”

“It was fine,” Logan said, then hesitated. 

The incident at lunch on the tip of his tongue. Dee seemed to sense this and waited expectantly. Logan didn’t expect himself to actually speak, though.

“I had a panic attack during the lunch period.” he finally said. Dee’s eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened worriedly. “I’m alright,” Logan promised. “Roman, actually, made sure I was.”

“Oh, good.” Dee seemed relieved, and another emotion Logan couldn't name sat in his face. “Do you know why?”

Again, Logan hesitated. Father would kill him if he kept talking the way he was. Then Logan looked around at the backyard, the treehouse, and listened to the cars and breeze around him.

“Someone was counting down from ten,” he said simply, shaking his head. If Dee had any more questions, he didn’t voice them. Instead, he just nodded and raised a hand with a question in his eyes.

“Can I… uh…” unlike his cousin, Dee was incredibly awkward when it came to offering physical comfort. Logan almost laughed at the sight but nodded instead. Dee wrapped him in a gentle hug, which Logan awkwardly returned.

“Sorry I wasn’t there,” Dee said softly.

Logan said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

**0-0-0-0-0-0**

“How was school today?” Logan looked up from his dinner when Rachel spoke.

“It was satisfactory.” Logan adjusted his glasses with a shrug. 

“All your classes okay?” She asked. Logan shifted uncomfortably but nodded. It wasn't a bad uncomfortable, just strange. Father had never asked questions like that. He rarely even spoke to Logan, really, unless delivering instructions.

“They’re easy,” Logan said softly, keeping his struggle with art to himself. In the back of his mind, he knew Rachel wouldn’t be mad. But he still couldn't risk admitting weakness. Especially not to her.

“That’s good!” Rachel beamed. After a moment of silence, and Logan assuming their conversation was over, she spoke again. “Sweetheart, Dr. Woodworth really thinks talking to a therapist could help you.”

“You want me to talk to a therapist,” Logan said, glancing up at her. He frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Why?”

“If you had someone you could really talk to, who could help you understand things, it might make this transition easier for you,” Rachel explained. Logan sat there for a moment, thinking. "

“I don’t want to talk to a therapist,” Logan said slowly… fiddling with his fork. “But…”

“Hm?” Rachel waited patiently, a small smile calming Logan’s nerves.

“Could you…” Logan closed his eyes and sighed. “Could you help me understand some things?”

“Of course I can!” Rachel seemed extremely happy he asked, and that made Logan feel a bit better. “What do you need to understand?” Logan opened his eyes and met her gaze seriously.

“I want to learn to play games.” He declared. Rachel didn’t say anything, confusion and surprise on her face. “Like Uno. And poker.”

“Let’s... start with Uno.” Rachel said softly, reaching to brush the hair out of Logan’s face. Logan cringed but didn’t pull away. The touch was nice. Terrifying, but nice all the same. “Will you think about the therapist thing?”

“I will.” Logan nodded, looking back down at his plate. “Thank you.”

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Logan had no idea why he’d agreed to this. Maybe it was the hopeful look in Rachel’s eyes. Maybe it was his excitement in mastering Uno. Maybe it was a lot of things. Whatever the reason, Logan found himself sitting on a couch in the waiting room next to his mother, nervously adjusting his glasses every few minutes.

“Logan?” Logan’s head snapped up when someone called his name. The man was short and round-faced, with glasses similar to Logan’s and bright pink hair.

“Do you want me to come as well?” Rachel asked. Logan shook his head, standing up.

“I’m Dr. Picani.” the man said, shaking Logan’s hand cheerfully. “Come on back, let’s get started.” Logan nodded and followed him back to a room with a blue plush couch and bookshelves around the walls, holding a mix of books and figurines and such.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” Picani said cheerfully. “Let’s just get to know each other, hm? Tell me about yourself.”

“Well…” Logan stared at the floor - carpeted with a fun polka dot design. “My name is Logan… I’m fifteen…”

“You’re in ninth grade then?” Picani asked cheerfully. Logan nodded. “What’s your favorite class?” Logan looked up for just a moment, then shrugged.

“They’re all very easy,” he said. “Other than art…”

“So you like the more core-classes?” Picani asked, beaming. “A scientist more than an artist, hm?” Logan winced, shuffling uncomfortably. 

“I suppose,” he mumbled. “At least, that’s…” he fell silent, staring at the floor. Why had he been about to bring up his father? That’s what he’d been avoiding the past two weeks or so.

“Would you consider yourself more of a researcher or an innovator?” Picani asked cheerfully. “Donatello or Hermione?”

“...what?” Logan looked at him, brow furrowed. Picani chuckled.

“Donatello, the ninja turtle? And Hermione from Harry Potter!”

Logan had no idea what a ninja turtle was. But he recognized the name Hermione now. He’d just re-read the first three books in the series and was starting the fourth.

“I don’t know who Donatello is,” Logan adjusted his glasses again. “But I do suppose I’m similar to Hermione in some ways. I like to learn, and I’ve always been told I’m smart.”

“Oh, Donatello is a great character!” Picani gushed, ignoring the rest of Logan’s statement. “He was a turtle who became a mutated humanoid, and he’s a genius. He’s an inventor as well, in some cartoons.”

“Oh.” of course - a cartoon. Logan hadn’t watched a cartoon since before his parents divorced. Looking around the room and noticing the surplus of cartoonish figurines, Logan decided not to mention this. “Well, I’ve been called a genius. But I’ve really only ever learned what other people discover… and I don’t build things.”

“Oh, that’s alright!” Picani chuckled. Then he fell silent, watching Logan expectantly. Logan fidgeted, looking around at the posters on the walls. After a few minutes of silence, Picani spoke again.

“So you don’t really like art classes?”

“Preference has nothing to do with it.” Logan declared, folding his hands in his lap. “I don’t understand art. I understand everything else I’ve been doing. I don’t understand art.”

“Hm.” Picani tapped his chin thoughtfully with a pencil. “What kind of art are we talking about here? Because really, isn’t everything art?”

“No.” Logan scowled. “History is what has been done. Science is what has been proven. Math is a science. English and language is a form of communication. Physical Education classes are for having a healthier and more productive life. They are all solid. All set. All able to be proven with facts.”

“Huh.” Picani seemed impressed, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, what if I told you art was a science?”

“Art is a science,” Logan repeated, eyebrow raised. “How on earth could art be a science? Science is data to be collected and examined. Science is to solve problems.”

“There are all kinds of art,” Picani started. “Drawing, painting, singing, writing-”

“Writing.” Logan frowned, thinking it over. 

“Of course!” Picani beamed. “It takes a lot of creativity to make up your own world and characters and stories! Authors are artists!”

“And there are many kinds of writing.” Logan murmured softly. “Educational, argumentative, storytelling. Fiction, non-fiction, biographies…”

“Each one a subcategory.” Picani stood up and walked to a whiteboard on the wall, picking up a blue marker. “What if we looked at it like this, let’s have Art be the starting category. Everything you’ve just mentioned as a school subject is a subcategory.” 

He wrote ‘Art’ in large letters on the top of the board, then ‘History’, ‘Science’, ‘Math’, ‘English’, and ‘Physical Education’ in a row below it and drew lines underneath.

“Art isn’t just creating something that not everyone understands. Art is understanding something in every different way possible, from every viewpoint.” Picani said, turning to look at Logan with a grin. Logan stared at him, then back at the board.

“For instance…” Picani turned back and picked up another colored marker. “History is understanding what happened in the past, right?”

“Yes.” Logan stood up and stepped closer to be sure he saw everything Picani drew.

“It’s also understanding why, when, who, and where,” Picani explained. “Understanding patterns - like geometry. Patterns in government, in weather, in events. That’s the art of it, Logan. Understanding every piece of something. That’s learning.”

Logan stared as Picani wrote different aspects of each subject, broadening it all into art.

Science is the art of knowing what, why, and how the world works in all it's different ways.

Math is the art of finding abstract value from nowhere, putting it into different combinations in order to create a different abstract value.

English is the art of getting your point across, forcing the communication to provoke thought.

Physical Education is the art of understanding muscles and bodies and brains and helping them to survive the best way possible.

“Art and science,” Picani finished as he capped the marker. “Are two ends of a spectrum. Science is the facts, the data like you said before.” Logan nodded, eyes wide. “Art is understanding the facts, and knowing how and when to use them.”

“Use them,” Logan repeated, rubbing his eyes. That was one thing his father had never prepared him for. There was no place he, at fifteen years old, was going to use the complicated chemical formulas he had memorized.

“You alright, Lo?” Logan looked back at Dr. Picani, who was surprised as if he hadn’t realized how he’d just torn apart the entire universe that Father had tried to impress on him. Art and Science were similar now - the same even.

“Yes,” Logan said softly, staring at the ground. 

“I know you’ve had it rough, Logan.” Picani suddenly said, very gently. “I’m sorry if I don’t seem to understand you very well. It’s going to be a learning experience for both of us.”

“It’s…” Logan took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. “It’s alright.” Then he hesitated, squinting at the board. “I just… my father always…” Logan sighed and shook his head. “He seemed to think creativity and art and such were a waste of time. But I’m beginning to see now that he was wrong.” 

He’d been wrong about a lot of things, Logan thought grimly to himself. Maybe, just maybe, Logan hadn’t learned anything at all in the seven years he was gone. Like Picani had said, knowing something was not the same as understanding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, I got some major block for this fic and worked on other stuff for a while but now I'm back and hopefully, it won't be too long before the next one! Now, I don't usually bring Thomas's other characters into a Sanders Sides Au... but Logan needed a therapist. Thomas has a therapist character. Might as well save the trouble from making ANOTHER OC, amiright? lol. Anyway, thank's for reading this and please leave a comment and a kudos and feel free to check out my other social media!  
> I'm Coby Thinks on Youtube, Twitter, Tumblr, Waterfall Social and I'm cj_cannot_think on Instagram!  
> Thanks again and have a great freaking day!  
> -Coby

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work posted here! (on A03) I hope you enjoy it, I'm not sure how many chapters there will be yet, but it's gonna be a pretty good sized fic!  
> I hope you liked this! Have a great day!  
> \- Coby


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